


Can't Stop Shaking

by h311agay



Category: Marvel Ultimate Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Physical Disability, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h311agay/pseuds/h311agay
Summary: Jean-Paul is left powerless and in a wheelchair after the event with the Banshee. Piotr is left stuck in his Colossus form. Jean-Paul falls deep into depression and is given a twisted sense of hope when Quicksilver makes an offer Jean-Paul isn't sure he can quite resist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my friend, Bean, for editing this <3 Thank you, Bean

Jean-Paul blinked away the blurry tiredness in his vision, a soft sigh leaving him as he stretched his arms. When his arm fell back down, it landed on something hard, something cold, and something moving. He turned his head and saw the reflection of his dark blue eyes in the silver sheen of Piotr’s body. He had hoped that his dream hadn’t been a dream, and that Piotr was flesh and bone again. He ran his hand over the other’s metal chest, struggling to roll over and prop himself up in order to look at his sleeping partner better.

 

His flailing about woke up Piotr who was staring at Jean-Paul with his eyebrows raised. The solid silver that covered the curve of his eyes made Jean-Paul long for the other’s ocean blue eyes more than he ever had. Even more than whenever they hadn’t seen each other for weeks on end. Piotr sat up, yawning and exposing even more metal, his teeth, tongue, throat. All of it was metal. Jean-Paul reached out to Piotr and pulled himself into the other’s arms. They were cold and hard and nothing like what Jean-Paul really needed or wanted, but they were Piotr’s and that was all that mattered. He laid his head on the other’s chest as questions were asked but he stayed quiet. He stayed quiet until, “Did you have a bad dream,  _ lyubimaya _ ?”

 

“No,” Jean-Paul breathed. “It was a good one.”

 

The sudden lack of movement from Piotr informed Jean-Paul that he had understood what he had meant completely. “Oh.”

 

They sat there in the tense silence for a few minutes until Jean-Paul’s stomach growled and Piotr gently moved him to get out of the bed. “I’ll go start breakfast,” he said, standing and stretching. “Do you want help getting out of bed?” Jean-Paul swallowed and sighed, nodding his head. Jean-Paul held his arms out so that Piotr could lift him up from under his armpits. His torso was tense against the other as he was carried, but his legs hung limply underneath him. Piotr set him gently down in his wheelchair before pressing a gentle kiss to Jean-Paul’s head, but the kiss wasn’t soft, it wasn’t warm. It was all cold, hard steel. Unmoving, uncompromising. Jean-Paul gripped the wheels of the wheelchair but quickly let go and sighed.

 

“Jean-Paul, are you alright?” The concern in Piotr’s voice made Jean-Paul’s stomach turn. “You’re… you’re unhappy, aren’t you?” Jean-Paul’s face contorted and he looked up to see nothing but sadness in Piotr’s face. “You’re unhappy and it’s my fault. I am sorry, Jean-Paul.”

 

“No! N-no, Piotr. No. This isn’t your fault. Please, don’t think I’m ever unhappy because of you. That’s just not true. I just. I dreamt I could run again…” His voice dropped in volume. “And when I woke up and couldn’t feel my legs I just… I’m sorry. It’s not you.” He saw Piotr’s hand clenched into a fist, the coils of metal shaking and twitching. He reached out for his hand and held it in his own. The cold disturbed him but he said nothing and didn’t recoil. “Piotr, it isn’t you.”

 

Piotr sighed, the tension in his body dissipating some before he turned to smile at Jean-Paul. “Alright. I believe you,  _ lyubimaya _ . But you cannot be upset with me for being worried. I did do a lot wrong which ultimately led to us being in this situation. I’m going to make breakfast now,” He went behind Jean-Paul and began to push him out to the dining room. “ _ Oy yebat' _ ,” he said. “I forgot we were out of milk. I meant to get some yesterday.”

 

“I could go out and get some if you need me to,” Jean-Paul offered, wanting an excuse to get out of the apartment and breath some fresh air. Piotr gave him a look before nodding. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a quick, cold kiss, Jean-Paul left the apartment and sighed. Right to his left were three more apartment doors and to his right, another two. The dirty grey hallway lead to a set of cage doors for the elevator. A set of equal dirty stairs ran six stories down and Jean-Paul felt a sudden pang of desire and he had to blink away the tears that were suddenly in his eyes. He wheeled over to staircase and stared down them. His heart was thudding and then suddenly, as if he couldn’t control himself, he flung himself down the stairs. Jean-Paul felt his hands hit the corner of one of the steps, the sharpness biting into his palms and pushing tendons aside. He flipped over himself, his useless legs snapping as he felt a sick heat pour out of his nose. Bones were breaking, tendons snapping. He felt himself in agonising pain, black creeping around the edges of his vision. He tried to call out for Piotr but he was choking on his own blood and… oh God… He was dying.

 

And then he was back up at the top of the steps, the wheels of his wheelchair precariously close to the edge of the top step. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly wheeled backwards. The elevator door squeaked open, the sound grating on Jean-Paul’s ears but hardly heard above the blood rushing through him. He blinked and turned to see the faces of the people on the elevator. A young woman had her arm out to keep the door from closing as someone else opened the gate. “Uh, hello,” she said, pity in her eyes, in her voice. She glanced in the elevator, frowning to see it was fairly packed. “Do you want to try and fit in here with us, sir?”

 

Jean-Paul felt his stomach twist in disgust at their faces, their voices. The way their demeanor had changed from awkwardly cramped tenants to people who don’t know how to handle a cripple. He wanted to scream but he swallowed and plastered on a smile. “No, it looks pretty packed in there. Just, send it up when everyone gets off, alright?” A few people looked over at each other with uncertainty. A few people stepped out, giving Jean-Paul sad eyes and strained smiles. “We can just take the stairs down,” one of them said, patting Jean-Paul on the shoulder. “It’s not a problem.”

 

Through gritted teeth, Jean-Paul thanked them. Everyone made room for him while he wheeled himself in, jaw clenched behind a toothy grin. “Thank you. But you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” After dismissive words and clicking of tongues, they were making their way down to the lobby. The door squeaked open and the gate was pushed aside as Jean-Paul began to wheel himself out. He just wanted to get some goddamned milk, not be looked at like he was a tragedy by every stranger he passed on the street.

 

Piotr already looked at him like that enough as it was.

 

He was wheeling his way to the store when he decided to cut through a small park. He stopped as he was crossing the bridge, eyes sadly watching the creek as children squealed somewhere behind him and car horns honked out on the road. And suddenly, it was like the stair well all over again and he saw himself floating down the river until he got caught on something and died a terrible death. Water filling his lungs and foam in his mouth. His eyes bulged as he drowned, unable to breathe water like some of the other mutants. Jean-Paul was suddenly breathing air again, his chest heaving and his eyes watering. He had been so focussed on the thought of killing himself that he had completely missed the person approaching him. That was, until they were there.

 

“Northstar, right?” Came an almost nasally voice, cocky but tired. Jean-Paul looked up and stiffened.Before him stood Magneto’s son, Quicksilver. He was dressed to blend in, his silver hair lazily combed. His icy blue eyes were fixated on Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul swallowed hard, scowling.

 

“What the hell do you want, Quicksilver,” he hissed, scathing tone in his voice. This man was a part of the Brotherhood. This man had killed hundreds if not thousands of innocent people. And here he was, standing in front of Jean-Paul, looming almost.

 

“I just want to talk, Jean-Paul,” he quipped leaning against the railing and looking at the water below.

 

“Northstar. I’m Northstar to you.”

 

Quicksilver hardly took notice of Jean-Paul’s interruption. “I know you’re hurting. I know. Trust me. And before you ask how I know what you’re experiencing, let me explain. You’re power is running. I mean, you have other powers and it’s almost insulting to just say you’re running. But, that’s the basic downplay of your power. You run. And you run fast. But… but now you can’t run. You’re stuck in a wheelchair. You don’t get to feel the pressure of the wind on your face or hear it howl beside your ears. The cold slaps on your face that leave tears in your eyes and colour on your cheeks.” He took a deep breathe. “Anyone else in that wheelchair could probably still use their powers. Kitty could still phase, Jean could still use her telekinesis and telepathy, Kurt could teleport… Hell, that hunk of a boyfriend of yours could still use his muscles and strength.” He turned to face Jean-Paul. “But you, Jean-Paul, you can’t do anything now that you’re in that horrible thing. You’re restricted. You’re useless. You can’t do SHIT!” He looked around as he noticed he got a little loud and sighed when no one was looking.

 

“If you came here to gloat, you’ve successfully done it,” Jean-Paul breathed, eyes filling up with water. “Now leave me alone,” he snapped. “And you can call me Northstar.”

 

“Why call you Northstar when you might as well be a homo sapien for the rest of your life?” He laughed lightly but the smile dropped. “But, no, Jean-Paul, I didn’t come here to gloat.” Jean-Paul didn’t bother to correct Quicksilver this time. “I came here to talk. It sucks, being in a wheelchair,” he walked behind Jean-Paul, hands on the metal bars of the wheelchair. Jean-Paul didn’t look back; he didn’t want to see just how close the other really was. “I really do understand it,” he breath was hot on the back of Jean-Paul’s neck and he had to fight everything not to shudder. “I was shot in the kneecap by my own father. And unlike some mutants we know, I don’t heal at an exponential rate. I had to heal like everybody else. In fact, I was lucky to be walking at all.” He moved away and walked back in front of Jean-Paul, who now noticed the slight limp. “The time I spent in a wheelchair were some of the worst moments of my life.”

 

“I was depressed, suicidal. Why live if everyone has to do everything for me? Their smiles of patience and understanding. The way their eyes held pity and sadness and maybe a little bit of relief that it wasn’t  _ them _ in that godforsaken chair. The way they would open doors and make room and their words were always way too sweet to be sincere. I  _ know _ what you’re going through, Jean-Paul. Because I went through it. I thought about killing myself, as I’m sure you have too. Maybe you don’t  _ want _ to kill yourself, but you’ve thought about it. I can help you, Jean-Paul. I can make you walk again.”

 

Jean-Paul’s heart skipped a beat and he sucked in a breath. Then he shook his head. “No. I don’t… I don’t need anything from you or your friends.” Quicksilver was behind him again, and he heard the cracking of his knuckles.

 

“Let me convince you otherwise.”

 

And then they were running. It was like everything Quicksilver had said it was. The euphoria of the speed made Jean-Paul’s blood pump hard and fast. It had been months since he had felt this king of speed, this kind of high. If he was being honest with himself, he was feeling excitement in more ways than one. They passed down streets and he saw the people as nothing but blurs. Colours were running together, creating a bleeding rainbow before Jean-Paul. All too soon, he and Quicksilver were back on the bridge. If anyone had been looking at them, it might look like they had shifted slightly off to the side, not that they ran all over New York. Jean-Paul was breathless, euphoria rushing through his veins. He was glad he was sitting down, because he didn’t think he would have been able to stand if he could.

 

There was a moment of silence but then Quicksilver was talking into his ear. “So, what do you say, Jean-Paul? Do you want your legs back?”

 

Jean-Paul swallowed. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”

 

“We give you your legs back. But you’re right. A catch. When we come for you, you leave with us. Doesn’t matter when, doesn’t matter where. Doesn’t. Matter. Why. Capichese?”

 

Jean-Paul looked out at the water. “Could… could you do something else for me? And I’ll think it over.”

 

“Of course, Jean-Paul. What do you need?”

 

Jean-Paul felt bitterness in his throat and his heart was pounding. “Heal Piotr as well. Heal him and me, and I’ll do it. I’ll go with you whenever.”

 

Quicksilver pulled away and disappeared for a moment. Jean-Paul knew so because he heard the sudden change in the air. Quicksilver appeared in front of him again, a jug of milk in his hands. “Deal. Here’s my number, Why don’t I take you home?” He began to push Jean-Paul back in the direction in which he came and, once they were clear of any people, Quicksilver ran again. Jean-Paul held onto the milk and strip of paper with Quicksilver’s number, letting the air rush past him and feeling the absence of it far too soon. “Call me,” he quipped, leaving Jean-Paul there with a look of uncertainty as he ran off.

 

Jean-Paul went into the lobby and pressed the elevator button, breathing in relief when the doors opened and showed an empty box. The trip up to the sixth floor was noisy but welcomed. The sound of the elevator made it impossible for Jean-Paul to think about what Quicksilver had come to him for. He really did want to walk again, and he wanted Piotr to be able to feel again… But he was so scared of what would happen if he agreed to go with them. Would he ever see Piotr again? How soon would they come for him? The doors opened and he wheeled down the hallway, trying to mask over any tension or worry that was showing through.

 

This was something he couldn’t tell Piotr about.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _ Lyubimaya _ , you’ve been staring at the same page of your book for quite some time, now,” Piotr’s voice interrupted Jean-Paul’s brooding. He startled slightly and gave the other a nervous laugh. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Piotr.”

 

The metal man scowled, sitting next to Jean-Paul. “Come on, don’t play. It’s been about twenty minutes and you haven’t turned the page. Surely it’s not that difficult of a read for you,” his tone inflicted no question, only a statement. “What’s wrong? You’re getting so lost in thought lately and it worries me. I do not like seeing you like this.”

 

Jean-Paul sighed, setting the book down. Piotr was right, he hadn’t been absorbing anything in the book, in fact, he wasn’t truly reading it. He’d been staring at the pages, deep in thought about Quicksilver’s offer to fix both of them. He wanted so badly to walk again, to run again. He wanted so badly to feel Piotr’s touch, his  _ real  _ touch and he was positive that Piotr missed that as well. But was agreeing to join the Brotherhood really worth it? He’d have to do unspeakable things if he joined them. His heart was hammering and he found himself focusing very intensely on a scratch in their coffee table. “ _ Lyubimaya _ ,” Piotr’s voice interrupted him again.

 

“Sorry. Sorry; I’m just thinking.” He sighed deeply before turning to Piotr and really looked at him. Basically, he was the same man that Jean-Paul had fallen in love with. The only difference now was that he was permanently metal, permanently unable to feel physical touches. They could kiss and hold each other, but it was like being with a fridge. Maybe it was a little selfish on Jean-Paul’s part, but he wanted to be able to touch Piotr again and not feel metal. “I miss being able to touch you,” he said, before he could even think about the words. “I m-mean,” he sighed. “No, that’s what I mean. I can touch you, but I can’t  _ touch _ you. I miss your warmth and your kisses and…” he blushed, clearing his throat. He was sure Piotr would understand what he meant by the last part. “I’d give anything to be able to be physical with you again. And not just in bed. I want to hold your hand and have it feel like  _ your _ hand. I want to hug you and feel  _ your _ arms. And I know you probably do, too. I’m sorry. It’s… It’s just been hard. With losing our physical intimacy and my ability to walk and…” He was crying, words sputtering. He knew he had to talk about all of this with Piotr but he didn’t want to accidentally tell him about Quicksilver. He flinched when Piotr’s cold, metal hand touched his cheek to wipe away his tears. That flinch in turn caused Piotr to wrench his hand away so fast that if hands could get whiplash, it surely would have gotten it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Piotr said, his voice sounding pained and broken. “I hadn’t even stopped to think that my being like this was hurting you.”

 

“No!” Jean-Paul cried. “It’s-- It’s not all about me, Piotr! It selfish for me to feel like this. I’m… At least I can still feel things. You can’t! That has to be horrible. I-- I’m a horrible person for making you feel like that. I’m sorry,” his last words came out as hoarse, choked whispers as he forced back sobs.

 

“Jean-Paul, of course it sucks. But I was dealing with it because I told myself at least I had you still.  _ Lyubimaya _ , I don’t think I could handle being like this for the rest of my life if I didn’t have you. So, thank you. It’s important that we talk about this, especially after what happened. Please don’t feel like you have to bottle up your emotions around me. I am not the best when it comes to heart-to-heart conversations, but I want to try. I want to try and get better not just for me, but for you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be unable to use your powers, Jean-Paul.”

 

Jean-Paul bit his lip, looking down. His cheeks were warm and the tears almost felt cold running down them. “Piotr, when… When Jean took me to you and I saw you… I was scared. I thought I had lost you. But, when you started crying, I knew you were still the Piotr I was in love with. The same Piotr that held me when I was dying. I was scared to see you like that, because I blamed myself.  _ My  _ death had did that. I…” He shuddered and didn’t flinch away this time when Piotr put his arm around his shoulders. “I was scared.”

 

“I’m sorry,  _ lyubimaya _ . I never… I would never want you to see me like that again. It is because of your death and my rampage that I’ve permanently sworn off Banshee. I’m so glad you didn’t really die. I thought I lost you. To have you die like that in my arms. I’m still so confused as to how you didn’t die, but I won’t take that for granted. You’re alive and well, even if you are confined to a chair. I love you. And I’m sorry you saw me like that. I blame myself. If I had been stronger, I could have held that plane down. If I had been quicker to respond, they never would have gotten you. If I hadn’t rampaged like that, perhaps Wolverine wouldn’t have… It’s my fault both you and I are like this. And I will pay for that always, but please don’t feel like  _ you _ also have pay. You did nothing wrong.”

 

There was a long silence, only broken by sniffling from Jean-Paul. “Piotr, I have to tell you something…” He sighed and turned his head to face Piotr’s face. “I did die. I was dead. I was gone. Like Angel before Jean and the Phoenix became one. And it’s…” 

 

“Jean brought you back.” 

 

Jean-Paul nodded. “But, it wasn’t just Jean. She tapped into the Phoenix’s powers and the Phoenix got so angry when she found out that Jean was trying to use her. She brought me back to life, but told me I would never walk again because she had never planned to bring me back. Jean tried to fight her but…”

 

“Jean-Paul, you are alive and that is what matters. I would kiss you like there was no tomorrow if it didn’t mean I’d bruise your lips. I don’t care if you can’t walk. I care that you are alive and here in my arms. I don’t care if I can’t feel that. I  _ know _ that you are there and that is what is important to me. I would do anything to get the ability to return to normal and to get you your ability to walk. But there’s nothing I can do, as of now. But I would do  _ anything _ , please don’t forget that. I love you.”

 

Jean-Paul sighed, his eyes closing. “I love you, too, Piotr. I do. I really love you.” Outside, rain began to fall. The pitter patter on their windows helped silence the thoughts racing in Jean-Paul’s mind. “I would do anything, too. I wish I could.” He listened to the beating of Piotr’s heart in his chest. The metal echo of it resonating throughout his chest.  _ Bud dum, bud dum, bud dum, bud dum, pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, bud dum bud dum bud dum pit pat pit pat pit pat bud pit dum pat bud pit dum pat bud pit dum pat bud pit dum pat dud pit dum pat bud pit dum pat budpitdumpatbudpitdumpat _ **_budpitdumpatbudpitdumpat_ ** . His eyes snapped open and he sat up as fast as he could. Piotr gasped, startled by Jean-Paul’s sudden panic. 

 

“Jean-Paul, what is wrong?”

 

Jean-Paul looked around, heart pounding in his own ears. It was such a different sound than Piotr’s.  _ Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, lubdub lubdub lubdub lubdublubdub _ **_lubdub_ ** . “The kitchen window,” he said after a moment of collecting himself. “Sorry. I was falling asleep when I remembered I opened the kitchen window earlier. Did you shut it?”

 

Piotr thought for a moment and stood, “ _ Nyet _ , I did not. I’ll go do that.” As he walked out to the kitchen, Jean-Paul grabbed his phone off the coffee table and went into his contacts. He scrolled through them until he came up onto a number listed under Telemarketer. The only one in is phone. He opened it up and sent a text, blood in his ears again.

 

[Hey, it’s Northstar… I’ve thought your offer over.]

 

A few seconds of silence followed his text and then a slight buzz broke it as Quicksilver sent a response. [As I knew you would. Let me guess, Jean-Paul, you want to go through with it.]

 

Jean-Paul gritted his teeth, looking back to the kitchen where he heard the window closing. [Yes, but I want you to fix Piotr first. And if anything goes wrong with it, I’ll kill you. Don’t text back with an answer. I don’t want him knowing about this.] After it had sent, he quickly deleted all the messages and set his phone back down, using his arms to prop himself back up on the couch better. He reached for the remote.

 

Piotr came back in with two bottles of beer and handed one to Jean-Paul. “Let’s watch something on Netflix,” Jean-Paul offered to which he got nod from Piotr as he began to scroll through shows. He settled for some cheesy rom-com and nursed his beer, mind still on the conversation with Quicksilver. Was he doing the right thing? What if something went wrong and Piotr died or got seriously injured? According to Jean, Piotr wasn’t supposed to be able to shift back because his heart had been cut out. She had been able to mend it properly while Piotr was stuck as Colossus, but it was through the method of welding and no one knew how that would carry through back into his human form. You can’t fix a human heart through welding, that just wasn’t how things worked. So, what if, after whatever Quicksilver and his brutes did with Piotr, he died? Jean-Paul felt his stomach lurch at that thought. The thought of Piotr dying was enough to make him sick, he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle an actual death. Especially if that death was caused by his own decisions. No wonder Piotr felt so responsible about Jean-Paul’s initial death.

 

He couldn’t focus on the television but he forced himself to not look over at Piotr. Not with his expression so strained and nervous. He finished his beer and set it down. Piotr got up and brought them both another round. They were underage, but at this point, Jean-Paul didn’t care. He just wanted to get wasted and forget everything that had happened today. His phone buzzed and he jumped, nerves sending shocks throughout his entire body. If that was Quicksilver texting him he was going to throw his phone out the window and scream to the heavens as it fell six stories to the ground. It wasn’t. He sighed, reading the text from Kurt.

 

“Kurt wants to know if we want to go watch movies with the rest of the gang at the mansion,” he told Piotr, getting ready to send back an answer. He didn’t know if he could handle being alone with Piotr for much longer without exploding, but he also didn’t want to be with a large group lest someone, mainly Jean, find out something was wrong and go digging for answers.

 

“Who all will be there? Everyone or just a few?” Jean-Paul sent the message and waited with tapping fingers for the answer.

 

“Kitty, Angel, Scott, Jean, Hank, and Storm. And then I guess also Kurt since he’s inviting us.”

 

“Think Kurt feels like the odd one out? Ever since Dazzler left, he’s been pretty bummed. He’s not too close to Kitty and he obviously has his issues with Angel that poor Angel has no idea about. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to go.” Jean-Paul forced a nod and text Kurt back.

 

“He said he’d be here in about fifteen minutes to get us. Think we can get another beer in? I’m not in the mood to really socialize, so I think another one to loosen me up would be good.”

 

“Jean-Paul if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.” Piotr’s voice was filled with concern and he was reaching to rub the back of Jean-Paul’s head.

 

Jean-Paul shook his head. “No, I want you to spend some time with your friend, especially because you guys had that fight over your sexuality not too long ago. I think he really wants to make up for that. I don’t want you to stay here just because I cried earlier. I’m good. I’m okay. I just needed to get that out of my system. Besides, I think another few hours in this apartment and I’ll go stir crazy. Hanging out with them will be good for me.”  _ As long as Jean stays out of my head _ , he thought to himself.

 

Piotr looked at him for a little while before sighing and nodding his head in agreement. “Alright, I’ll go grab another drink for you and find something more suitable to wear than pajamas.” He went and got Jean-Paul his drink and disappeared into their room.

 

[Don’t come tonight. We’re going to be at the mansion and I’d really rather not have to explain why you’re helping Piotr out. Tomorrow. Come tomorrow. I’ll let you know if plans change. Don’t text back.]

 

He deleted the message after it had been sent and sighed. He hated hiding things from Piotr but what could he tell him? Everything about this situation was so backwards and confusing. Quicksilver, of all people, was willing to help them both out, and all Jean-Paul had to do was go with the Brotherhood when the time came. Who knew how soon that time would be? But he was hoping it wouldn’t be too soon. He wanted to come clean to everyone _ before  _ it happened.

 

Fifteen minutes passed before Kurt was popping into their living room and disappearing with Piotr on his arm. He returned and grabbed Jean-Paul, teleporting them into a dark alley between apartment buildings only about twenty feet from their lobby door. A car was running right in front of them and the back door was open. “I am glad the two of you could make it. I don’t know vhat movie is playing, but Scott chose it. He has horrible taste.” Kurt laughed lightly as they situated Jean-Paul in the back seat, then climbed into the passenger. Scott smiled in the front seat.

 

“It’s good to see you guys. We’re gonna watch some Die Hard, you excited?”

 

“Did you know that if you die when hard, the mortician has to break your dick,” Jean-Paul quipped. Kurt snorted in the front seat and Scott’s cheeks turned a slight shade of red. He could hear a small chuckle from Piotr.

 

“I… I did not know that, Jean-Paul. Thanks for the information. I’ll be sure to never die with a boner.” Scott shook his head and began to drive. Jean-Paul sighed and leaned against Piotr’s arms. Tonight would go fine, as long as Jean didn’t dig in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

After much arguing, the group of people finally decided to watch a different movie. Scott had been the only who really wanted to watch Die Hard, much to his own dismay. Jean-Paul didn’t know what they had settled on, only that it was still an action movie. One that Storm had claimed was her favourite and it was with that fact that Hank had also agreed to watch it. Being an action movie, Scott reluctantly agreed to play that with the okay from both Kurt and Angel who had no idea what the movie was. Jean shrugged, saying she hadn’t care what they watched and Piotr said he was fine with anything. Jean-Paul had been pouring himself a drink when they asked him if he was okay with it and he agreed, saying he didn’t mind watching it, since he had never seen it before.

 

He was slugging back his third or fourth drink, feeling the affects of the alcohol taking its course. He felt more loose, more comfortable. He also felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t go piss soon. He excused himself, wheeling himself down the hall to go find a bathroom. After relieving himself, (getting on the toilet to do so had been much harder than he expected due to his inebriation) he got distracted staring at a painting in the hallway. He was lost in thought, and had he been anymore drunk, might not have noticed Jean’s mind inside of his own. He quickly slammed up defenses and spun his chair around to face her, anger evident on his face. “What the hell, Jean! I didn’t give you permission to dig around in my head!” Her own face matched his level of anger.

 

“I shouldn’t need permission from you, Jean-Paul, I brought you back to life. I think the least I deserve is to see why you’ve been so closed off this evening!”

 

“Just because you brought me back to life does not mean you own me, Jean. So I’d really appreciate it if you stayed the hell out of my head without my permission.”

 

Jean scowled and he saw that a portion of the woman he was arguing with wasn’t just Jean. “You’re acting really weird, Jean-Paul. I just want to know what’s going on,” she said, her eyes and voice softening.

 

Jean-Paul sighed. “A lot, Jean. There’s a lot going on. A portion of it is that I’m stuck in this wheelchair. The other part is that Piotr is stuck in his metal form. I love him, I really, really do. I just miss the physical intimacy, okay? I miss hugging and laying together and kissing and fucking. I miss all of it. We can hug, we can lay together, I can kiss him, but it’s like he’s not there. He’s constantly careful with me, because he doesn’t want to hurt me. And maybe I  _ want _ to be hurt, Jean. Maybe I want him to fucking crush me. I don’t know! There, happy? I told you what the hell is going on in my head right now. Now leave me the fuck alone. Go watch the movie.”

 

Jean’s eyes were wide with surprise and her hand was hovering over her mouth. She looked down the hall to where Piotr was standing, a shocked expression on his face as well. Jean-Paul felt sickness in his stomach and wheeled past both of them and back into the room where everyone else was so into the movie or each other that they didn’t notice the weird air between Piotr, Jean, and Jean-Paul.

 

Piotr sat on the couch next to where Jean-Paul’s chair was and reached over for his hand. Jean-Paul thought about wrenching it away, but he didn’t really want to hurt Piotr’s feelings. He hadn’t meant to say all of that to Jean and he really hadn’t meant for Piotr to hear it. “I’m sorry,” he said under his breath. There was a slight squeeze to his hand.

 

“Jean-Paul, I would never hurt you. Don’t be sorry. This is a rough patch for us, but we’ll get through it.”

 

Jean-Paul looked back at the movie where someone was on fire. Their skin was charring and hair shriveling up. Jean-Paul suddenly wished it was him on the screen. The fire licking at his skin. He wondered what it would feel like to be in the center of that. He wanted his skin to shrink and char like that. He wanted his eyeballs to dry up and bleed and his teeth to start falling out as his gums dissolved into ash. His heart was pounding as he thought about how great of a way to die that would be. To go up in flames.

 

He felt a flicker of worry from Jean and realised she had been listening in on his thoughts.

 

Suddenly, he replaced himself in that image with Jean and sent a scathing thought toward her.  _ Fuck. Off. _

 

She visibly flinched and Jean-Paul almost felt bad. But she had to learn to stay out of his head. Just because she revived him didn’t give her any right to intrude on his privacy. His head was his head. No one else’s. He turned back to the television to find that the person who had been on fire was now nothing more than a pile of smoking ash, a few weak flames still licked at the ground where they had been. 

  
  
  
  


Later that night, Piotr was sitting on their couch, an expression of deep thought on his face. Jean-Paul still felt bad that Piotr had heard his little tantrum to Jean. He wheeled up to him and put his hand on the other’s knee. He knew Piotr couldn’t feel it, but he could see it. The other looked up at him and there were wet streaks down his face but no other evidence that Piotr had been crying at all. “I’m sorry, Piotr. I hadn’t meant for you to hear that.” Jean-Paul hoped his apology sounded sincere. Because he really hadn’t meant for Piotr to stumble in on their conversation. He hadn’t even meant to say it, but it happened.

 

“I didn’t know that sex was that important to you. I’m sorry.”

 

“No! Goddammit, Piotr! Don’t be sorry!” His hand came down on the coffee table as a fist and felt waves of pain go up his arm and he swore under his breath. “I said something horrible. Sex isn’t that important to me! Sure, I _miss_ it, but it’s not like it’s the most important part of our relationship!”

 

“No, you’re right about that. But it was still a part of it. And you’re right. We can’t kiss unless you want to kiss… something like a fridge.” Jean-Paul’s eyes widened. Had he said that out loud? When? “When we lay together, I’m always careful to make sure I don’t hurt you and maybe sometimes I’m being too careful. I’m scared I’m going to hurt you Jean-Paul. I don’t  _ want _ to hurt you. Ever.”

 

“Oh, Piotr, you’re not going to hurt me. That was a horrible thing for me to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said something like that. I was just so mad at Jean. I wanted her to stay out of my head. Some things aren’t meant to be said and that was one of them. It was a wretched thing for me to say. This whole day has been horrible. I’m sorry.”

 

Piotr gently grabbed the hand that Jean-Paul was absent-mindedly nursing. “Did you hurt yourself when you hit the coffee table?”

 

Jean-Paul’s shoulders slumped. “No, if anything, it’ll just bruise.” He hated that Piotr had changed the subject, because he really was sorry. But at the same time he was grateful. It was exhausting to just talk about it. Piotr stood up and picked Jean-Paul up. The sound that left Jean-Paul was unexpected to say the least-- by both of them. They laughed lightly and it felt good to actually laugh. Jean-Paul leaned his head against Piotr’s arm, exhaustion washing over him like waves on a beach. 

 

“Come on,  _ lyubimaya _ , let’s go get some rest.” Jean-Paul hummed in agreement, sleep already taking over. It wasn’t until the dark hours of the morning that he would realise they ever made it to the bedroom. It was a sound in the house that had woken him up. How it had heard it over Piotr’s snoring, he didn’t know. But then he heard voices.

 

“Dammit, Wanda. Could you be any more careless,” came a hissed voice, right outside their door.

 

“I’m sorry Pietro. Next time, why don’t you tell me there’s going to be a goddamned wheelchair right outside the door,” the woman’s response was harsh and scalding. He wouldn’t want to be the person those words were directed towards. Jean-Paul’s heart was thudding in his ears and suddenly the door was open and Piotr was springing out of the bed, lights turning on. After a second of adjusting, Jean-Paul realised that the intruders were Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. Quicksilver turned to Jean-Paul, winked, and then ran. He snatched Jean-Paul up out of the bed and was out the door, grabbing the woman’s arm as they went.

 

“We need more room for this,” Quicksilver said over the wind to Jean-Paul. “So we’re going to lead hunk-a-licious here to the park.” Quicksilver stopped right down the street from the apartments. Piotr didn’t waste a second. He threw himself off the balcony, head turning to look for them and, when he found Quicksilver, he began to run straight for them. He was almost within arms reach when Quicksilver laughed, sprinting down a few more blocks and yelling to Piotr. “COME ON, COLOSSUS. DON’T YOU WANT YOUR BOYFRIEND BACK?”

 

Jean-Paul heard an angry yell from Piotr and felt guilt sink into his gut. Piotr had no idea that Jean-Paul was in no harm and wouldn’t be. “Wanda, you did grab Jean-Paul’s phone from the coffee table like I said, right? That was your phone, Jean-Paul, right?” With gritted teeth Jean-Paul nodded while Wanda gave her brother an exasperated yes.

 

The chase went on for a little while until they made it to the park, where Quicksilver gently sat Jean-Paul down, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jean-Paul, this’ll be over fairly soon. Here’s you phone.” He tossed Jean-Paul his phone than ran off with Wanda to hide.

 

Piotr caught up, breath wild and ragged. “Jean-Paul!” He stopped short, narrowing his eyes. “You are Jean-Paul, right? Not that shapeshifter.”

 

“Yes,” Jean-Paul said.

 

“Prove it.”

 

With a deep sigh, Jean-Paul looked down at his phone. “Earlier we were watching movies with our friends and I told Jean I wished you’d hurt me. When we got home, I punched the coffee table and bruised my fist.” Piotr dropped down to his knees and pulled Jean-Paul into a hug, a sigh-- broken almost by a sob-- escaped Piotr. He stood back up and looked around.

 

“Where are they?”

 

“Right here, my big friend,” Quicksilver taunted as he began to run circles around Piotr.

 

“A simple reaction, easy enough to change back,” Wanda mumbled as her hands began to glow red and so did Piotr. “Sound familiar, Colossus?”

 

Piotr froze, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “No! Please, don’t do this! I’ll die!”

 

“Unfortunately, on our part, you won’t. We’re doing someone a favour. If you die, we lose someone very important to our cause. Stand still and this will be over soon enough.” Wanda continued to focus on Piotr. Jean-Paul watched as the metal on Piotr’s body slowly began to disappear and show skin. His heart was thudding and he hoped that Piotr’s was, too. And that it would stay beating.

 

What felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, passed and then the red light of Wanda’s powers died out and Quicksilver was standing next to Jean-Paul. Piotr stood still for a moment, eyes wide and looking at the flesh on the back of his hand.

 

He turned to Jean-Paul and went to speak, but Quicksilver interrupted. “We must be off. Bye!”

 

Suddenly it was just Piotr and Jean-Paul in the park. And then Piotr collapsed. Jean-Paul screamed, pulling himself over to Piotr as quickly as he could without the use of his legs. Piotr was on his back, blue eyes staring blankly up into the sky. “Piotr! PIOTR!  **PIOTR!** ” He was shaking him, tears falling from his eyes. He swore loudly and put his ear to Piotr’s chest.  _ Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.  _ A sigh of relief escaped Jean-Paul.  _ Lub dub. Lub. Dub. Lub. Dub. Lub… Dub… Lub… Dub… Lub… _

 

_ Dub…  _

 

_ Lub… _

 

_ Dub… _

 

_ Lub… _

 

Silence. Jean-Paul’s eyes widened and he began to panic again. Pulling himself up, he began to attempt CPR on Piotr, tears clouding his vision and falling onto Piotr’s chest. “Please, God. No. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this to me, oh god no.” He still couldn’t hear Piotr’s heartbeat and he scrambled in the grass for his phone. He called Kurt, the first person he could think of.

 

“Hello?” Came a groggy, tired voice.

 

“Kurt we’re in the park near our apartment please hurry, Piotr’s not breathing and his heart isn’t beating. I think he’s dying. Please hurry, oh god, hurry please.” He could hear the static of Kurt teleporting, a horrible screech coming from the phone’s speakers. There was embarrassed noises on the other side of the phone.

 

“ _ Ja _ , I don’t care how naked you two are hurry and get ready. We have to go get Jean-Paul and Piotr from the park near their apartment. Jean-Paul says Piotr is not breathing or responding. I’m going to go get Piotr, it should only take a few teleports, but I don’t think I can carry both of them.” The voice was quiet and hard to hear, leading Jean-Paul to believe he wasn’t holding the phone to his face. When Kurt spoke again it was clearer. “I’m on my vway. Did you hear that, though? I’m going to grab Piotr and bring him here to Jean. Scott and someone else will be there shortly to get you after that. Vwill you be okay on your own until then?”

 

Jean-Paul nodded then realised that there was no way Kurt could hear him. “Y-yes. Yes, I think I’ll be okay.” He laid his head back on Piotr’s chest and his heart fluttered when he heard a very quiet, very weak, very slow beating of the other’s heart. He felt tears leaving him again, he he just laid there in the park alone with Piotr’s unresponsive body until Kurt arrived.

 

There was a gasp from Kurt as he kneeled next to them. “Vhat happened,” he whispered, an unstable waver in his voice. “How is he like this?”

 

“It’s my fault,” Jean-Paul cried, sitting up so Kurt could grab a better hold of Piotr. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault. I did this-- I,” a felt a slap from Kurt’s tail.

 

“Vhat happened,” he repeated, stronger and more fierce this time.

 

Jean-Paul’s lower lip quivered and he looked at Kurt with sad eyes. “His heart is beating again, but very slow and weak. Get him to Jean.”

 

Kurt stared at Jean-Paul for a second longer before scowling and teleporting away. The smell of sulfur filled Jean-Paul’s head and he laid down in the grass, hand combing the warm spot where Piotr had been laying. “Oh my god, this is fault.”

 

Within no time at all, Scott was sitting in the grass next to Jean-Paul, hand on his back. “Jean called me. Piotr’s stable. His heart’s still a little weak, but it’s beating on it’s own. He’s awake.” Jean-Paul didn’t move from his spot, eyes blankly staring at the spot where his hand rested. “Jean-Paul, come on, he wants to see you. And Jean has questions for you. Piotr doesn’t really remember much. Storm is grabbing your wheelchair and will be here soon. If you can answer some questions ahead of time, that would be really helpful.”

 

Still, Jean-Paul said nothing but he could tell Scott was getting frustrated. “Kurt told us you said this was your fault? Can you explain what you mean? Did you convince him to try and shift? You know how dangerous that was, right?”

 

“No, I never told him to shift back.”

 

“Then how is this your fault? Jean told me you and her got in an argument and that Piotr overheard. Have you two been fighting? Is it because you guys couldn’t be physically intimate? Are you blaming yourself because Piotr felt guilty or something?”

 

“No. It’s not because of us fighting.”

 

Scott made a noise of frustration. “Then what is is, dude? Come on, tell me! I know I’m pretty much shit when it comes to explaining how I’m feeling, but we need to know what brought this on. He’s okay, Jean-Paul. We just want to understand what happened.”

 

“Quicksilver happened,” Jean-Paul breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean-Paul was screaming. Euphoria was rushing through his veins, a hot, slow magma of euphoria. He could feel each and every nerve and cell in his body jumping and dancing and celebrating. He ran his fingers over his arms, goosebumps sprouting in the paths he took. His heart was thudding and his mind was swimming. He wanted to kiss someone, not because he wanted to make out, but because he was sure the sensitive nerves on his lips would feel even better than the ones exploding on his arms. He brought a hand to his lips and practically groaned. Even under his own fingertips, it was a delicious feeling.

 

He put his hands in his hair and moaned, letting his head fall back. Suddenly, there was someone kissing his revealed neck. Large hands were on his hips and his skin was burning underneath them. He arched into the feel of Piotr biting his skin, leaving dark marks in his wake. Piotr stopped and kissed him, holding him tight to his body. Jean-Paul’s mouth erupted into a series of fireworks. Cells and nerves tingling and popping and exploding in pleasure and need. The kiss was hungry, their touches frantic.

 

When the parted, Piotr held a syringe out to him and Jean-Paul took it with eager hands. He never wanted this feeling to diminish. He never wanted to stop feeling strong and powerful and undefeatable. He could run at speeds faster than he ever thought possible. He could fly into space, amongst the stars, and  _ breathe _ . He pushed the syringe in and the plunger down, slowly, carefully. He wanted this to last. He wanted to  _ feel _ it. The Banshee was amazing, no matter what anyone told him. He had never felt so powerful and important. Jean-Paul moaned in satisfaction as he pulled the needle from his skin. He could feel his body on fire, burning, melting away into nothingness. A nothingness made of pure bliss and freedom of troubles.

  
  
  
  


Jean-Paul woke up to someone shaking him and yelling his name. Kurt was standing over him in the darkness, the only sign it was him were the yellow eyes lighting up in the dark. “Jean-Paul,” he said again, kneeling by him. Jean-Paul looked around the room and noticed it wasn’t as dark as he originally thought. He was in the living room where they had all been watching movies. The television was on, playing reruns of some old black and white show. The sound was off. “You were screaming. I thought it vwould be best to vwake you.  _ Es tut mir leid _ , but maybe you should go see Piotr now. He’s been asking for you.”

 

Jean-Paul took a deep breath; his skin was sticky with a cold sweat and he was shaking.He pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at a pain in his side. It felt like he had been running for hours but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not with his useless legs. “Piotr is still awake? What time is it?”

 

Kurt hummed, teleporting over to a curtain and drawing it. “Somevhere around two in the afternoon,  _ der unruhestifer _ . Your wheelchair is beside the couch. Do you need help getting into it?”

 

“No, I can do it myself. Thank you, though, Kurt.” Kurt left the room, wringing his strange hands together and mumbling something in German under his breath. Jean-Paul had a feeling that Kurt wasn’t too fond of him at the current moment, especially because Piotr was in the infirmary and… alive. A huge weight was lifted off of Jean-Paul’s chest. He hadn’t gotten Piotr killed. Piotr was going to be okay. He finagled himself into his wheelchair, running his hands through his knotted hair and began down the hallway to the infirmary.

 

The room was all stainless steel and silver lights, the sounds of machines whirring and fluids dripping almost made Jean-Paul feel sick. Piotr was sitting propped up on a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor. He was talking quietly to Jean, a serious look on his face. Jean looked over when Jean-Paul entered and smiled weakly at him. “It’s good to see you awake, Northstar. We were all worried about you.” Her smile was false but Jean-Paul returned it, especially since Piotr had turned his head and was smiling like he was seeing heaven. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” She left the room, shooting a thought to Jean-Paul.

 

_ You and I are going to have a talk about this later. _

 

Jean-Paul grimaced slightly but wheeled over to Piotr, the smile on his face dropping because he couldn’t even look Piotr in the eyes. “I… I’m so sorry. I’m glad you’re okay,” he breathed, heart thudding heavily in his chest. He thought he’d be okay knowing that Piotr wasn’t dead, but guilt was eating away at his stomach, leaving him shaky and paranoid.

 

“You don’t need to apologise,  _ lyubimaya _ . This wasn’t your fault. Besides, I came out fine. My heart is a little weak, but it is pumping and I can shift back and forth now. Nothing bad happened. Only good.” He reached for Jean-Paul’s hand but Jean-Paul couldn’t stand to touch Piotr knowing he almost had him killed. It became hard for him to breath and he started to tear up.

 

“But it was. It was my fault,” he looked up to Piotr before glancing away in shame. His cheeks were red and hot with tears. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you. But it  _ was _ my fault. I can’t ever make it up. Even though you didn’t die. I  _ caused _ it.” Piotr grabbed Jean-Paul’s hand before he could pull away again and squeezed.

 

“If you want to tell me, okay. If not, okay. I’ll live with either one, but, Jean-Paul, I don’t want you to carry this shame and blame with you for the rest of your life. I’m  _ okay _ , I’m alive. Nothing bad happened and there’s nothing we can do to change what  _ has _ happened. Only what  _ will _ . I’m not mad at you for whatever you think it is you’ve done.  _ Ya lyublyu tebya _ , please don’t forget that. I love you.” Piotr’s deep ocean eyes stared into Jean-Paul’s own with a sincerity and ferocity that sent shivers down Jean-Paul’s spine.

 

“Okay,” Jean-Paul whispered, voice hoarse and shaky. “I love you, too.”

 

Piotr smiled, eyes softening. “Can I hear it in your mother language? I don’t get to hear you speak it often.”

 

Jean-Paul let out a weak laugh, shaking his head. “No, no.” It felt good to have an honest laugh. He sighed, smiling. “Fine.  _ Je t’aime, mon p'tit cul _ .”

 

“What was that last part?”

 

Jean-Paul averted his eyes, smiling. “Just a term of endearment, don’t worry. It doesn’t even translate to anything properly. Most likely somewhere along the lines of beloved or whatnot.” Piotr lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to it, smiling.

 

“Sure,” he breathed, smiling.

  
  
  
  


A few hours had passed and Jean-Paul had spent most of the day sitting in the infirmary with Piotr, occasionally falling silent to lay his head on Piotr’s chest and just listen to the weak but steady beating of his heart. It was nice to hear a normal heart-beat, the soft  _ lub dubs _ echoed in Jean-Paul’s mind, steadying his own heart and mind. During one of these moments, Piotr had drifted off into sleep, leaving Jean-Paul there with his own thoughts.

 

Jean entered the room, her green eyes set ablaze with fury. “Northstar,” she hissed, causing Jean-Paul to wince at the anger. “I want you to start from the very beginning and tell me what happened. If you don’t I  _ will _ enter your mind and get the information myself.” 

 

Jean-Paul scowled at her and looked over at Piotr, whose face was content and undisturbed. “Fine, but let’s go somewhere else. I don’t want anyone overhearing, which seems to be a continuing theme at this school.”

 

Jean led Jean-Paul down the hallway, to her room. She sat down on her bed before taking a moment to breathe. “Would you rather tell me, or have me look.”

 

Jean-Paul glared at her but found a lump in his throat and realised she hadn’t been prying, simply asking. He sighed deeply and opened his mind to her. “Just… find what you’re looking for and then leave me alone. I know what I’ve done wasn’t right, but there’s no way of changing it and… And I’d do it again. So, go ahead and look Jean. I’m not hiding anything.”

 

Jean-Paul had just expected to feel the tickle of Jean browsing around in his mind, just like how it felt whenever she would start to enter it. Oh, how he was wrong. He was sucked into his own mind with her, reliving the moments she dug through in a sepia tone. She started way back to the moment she revived Jean-Paul, his bloody face and wide eyes.

 

_ “We’ve been through this before, Jean,” he hissed at her. She stood out against his memories, all bright colours. She hushed him, watching with attentive eyes. Jean-Paul turned back to the memory, shuddering as his memory self sputtered and shook, lungs aching as they breathed again. _

 

_ “J-Jean?” _

 

_ “Shh, you’re okay,” breathed the memory Jean, a soft smile on her face. “You’re alive. We have to go find Piotr,” she said as her smile dropped. “He can’t know you actually died, not yet. He’s not right in his mind. Only you can get him to calm down.” _

 

_ Jean moved them forward through his memories, past his confrontation with Piotr. “You’re a hero, don’t forget that.” Past that day, where he waited on the other side of the infirmary door while Jean welded Piotr’s heart back in. _

 

_ Finally, they made their way to the other day. The day Quicksilver had approached Jean-Paul. Jean gasped and visibly flinched when the thought of Jean-Paul throwing himself down the stairs approached. HerH green eyes went to him and he scowled. “Don’t act so surprised Jean. As if you weren’t suspicious.” _

 

_ “I didn’t know you were feeling that badly.” As the bridge approached, Jean-Paul felt his gut sink and the memory’s colour got darker and the sepia tone turned black and white, red creeping along the edges. Jean looked at him with concern and her own eyes darkened as the thought of drowning crossed the memory. “How often were you having these thoughts?” _

 

_ “Often enough.” _

 

_ That’s when it happened. The conversation with Quicksilver. Jean watched intensely. Her expression changed from confusion, to anger, to horror and finally, to disgust. She turned to face Jean-Paul, her mouth open as if to say something. But then the memory was exploding in colour as Quicksilver was running with Jean-Paul. Again, as if he was really feeling the wind against his face. Jean gasped, bringing a hand to her face. All too soon, the memory was over and the colours of the run were fading away and he brought a hand up to his face to wipe away tears he hadn’t even known were falling. “I didn’t know it felt like that,” Jean breathed, wiping away her own tears. _

 

_ There was a moment of silence but then Quicksilver was talking into his ear. “So, what do you say, Jean-Paul? Do you want your legs back?” _

 

_ Memory Jean-Paul swallowed. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.” _

 

_ “We give you your legs back. But you’re right. A catch. When we come for you, you leave with us. Doesn’t matter when, doesn’t matter where. Doesn’t. Matter. Why. Capiche?” _

 

_ Memory Jean-Paul looked out at the water. “Could… could you do something else for me? And I’ll think it over.” _

 

_ “Of course, Jean-Paul. What do you need?” _

 

_ “Heal Piotr as well. Heal him and me, and I’ll do it. I’ll go with you whenever.” _

 

Suddenly, fast enough to make Jean-Paul feel sick, Jean was pulling them out of his memories.

 

“You!” Her voice caught and she was standing, point her finger at Jean-Paul. “You  _ bastard _ ! You almost have Piotr killed just so you could walk again! I never thought you to be so goddamn  _ selfish _ , Jean-Paul! I’m mortified! How could you?” Her voice was shrill in Jean-Paul’s ears, making his head ache.

 

“Stop!” He cried out, hands going to his ears. There was a different kind of pain in his head. One he had only felt a few times. She was still screaming at him, lashing insult after insult at him. “Stop!” He screamed back, head spinning and hurting. It felt like he was about to explode. “Please! _ Putain, tu vas m'exploser la tête _ !” He realised, past all the pain he was feeling, that Jean was inadvertently sending psychic attacks to his mind. Her bedroom door slammed open and a bunch of people rushed into the room. Their voices mixed together, swimming around in Jean-Paul’s head and bouncing off his skull.

 

He felt soft hands on him and the smell of sulphur and brimstone filled the room and there was a loud popping sound. Suddenly, all the pressure on his skull was relieved and he was back in the room where he had woken up. His ears were ringing and he tasted blood in the back of his scratched up throat. His eyes focused on the person in front of him as he blinked away tears and Kurt was hovering over him, worry in his expression.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was holding onto Jean-Paul’s shoulders gently, trying to be heard over the ringing in Jean-Paul’s ears. Jean-Paul blinked away the multiple other Kurts, wincing when he could finally hear again. “Jean-Paul, are you alright? Please, answer me.”

 

Jean-Paul felt dizzy and sick, his tongue was like cotton and his throat felt like he had shoved sticks down it “I’m okay.  _ Sacre bleu _ , what happened? I feel like my head has been through the grinder.”

 

“Jean used a psychic attack on you,” Kurt said softly, slowly. “We’ve all been on the receiving end before and it’s not any fun. But you vwill vwork past it in time. The headache aftervwards is the vworst part.” He teleported away and then back in a few seconds, holding a cold bottle of water and pain medication. “Here, this vwill help with the pain.” 

 

Jean-Paul cautiously took the medication and water. “Why are you helping me? I thought you didn’t like me.”

 

Nightcrawler’s face lit up in surprise. “Vwhat? Vwhat made you think that?” His hands lowered to his navel and he began to twiddle his… thumbs.

 

Jean-Paul shrugged. “I just… you’re very distant from me. You don’t talk to me. You’re Piotr’s friend, but I don’t think we’ve really ever had a conversation. And… I’m sure last night didn’t help you feel any more hospitality toward me. And… And I know you don’t really care for…” He gestured to himself, hoping that would explain what he meant. He really didn’t want to talk about sexualities and distastes for them right now. His head was pounding and he could feel the blood rushing through his temples.

 

Kurt was quiet for a moment. “I’ve grown past that,” he said, sitting down on the couch and staring at the blank television. “I grew up in a place where things vwere very different than they are here. I firmly believe in God and his vword, but I also don’t vwant to lose a friend like Piotr ever again. It vwas stupid of me to say those things to him, but it was because I cared.” He looked over at Jean-Paul. “I thought  _ you _ didn’t like me,  _ mein freund _ . Because of the things I had said to Piotr.” He sighed, looking down at his hands.

 

“I gave you space because I thought that if you ever vwanted to be my friend, you’d say something. I just assumed your silence toward me meant that you did not vwant to be friends. I vwas okay with that. I said some pretty horrible things to Piotr and I’m sure he told you vwhat I said, and if he didn’t vwell… He vwas always the bigger person. I respect you, Jean-Paul. And I no longer see homosexuality as vwhat I once did. How can people so kind and loving and forgiving like Piotr be an abomination?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jean-Paul interrupted. “I… I never stopped to think that  _ you _ thought I hated you.” Jean-Paul’s head was swimming, but he was able to focus on Nightcrawler fairly well. “I guess I don’t hate you; I never really did. I was hurt by what you said to Piotr and it was really hard to get him to talk to me about it. I did resent you for a while, but I never hated you. More… hurt. I really thought you hated me though.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I guess I thought you blamed me for Piotr being gay, as ridiculous as that sounds. But it’s happened to me before. A friend or a family member of a friend or lover blames  _ me _ for their son, brother, friend being gay. You just… never talked to me and when you did it was always so reserved and short that I just assumed. And after last night, I really,  _ really _ thought you hated me.”

 

Nightcrawler bit his lip. “About last night, I am sorry I slapped you. You vwere just being so hysterical, I didn’t know vwhat to do. You vweren’t making any sense and I was honestly scared you vwere going to pass out. Can you… Can you tell me vwhat happened?”

 

Jean-Paul drank some water and looked out the window. “I… I wouldn’t say I made a mistake, but I definitely didn’t do something good. I don’t think you’ve ever been so…” He stopped himself, looking at Kurt closely. “No, I’m sure you  _ have _ . I bet there’s been times you’ve been so down and lonely and hurting that you’ve thought about killing yourself. That you’ve thought about ending it in any way possible because surely death can’t be any worse than the living hell you’re going through.”

 

Kurt paused but then slowly nodded. “I’m sure our circumstances vwere much different, but  _ ja _ , I’ve thought about it, even almost attempted it.”

 

Jean-Paul nodded as well. “I don’t know when I started to think like that, started to really hate everyone around me. I started… I realised I was falling out of love with Piotr, not because of him, but because of  _ me _ . I was  _ hating  _ myself and wanted to die. I guess I thought if I couldn’t even love myself, then I couldn’t even love someone else, especially someone who  _ deserved  _ to be loved. I guess it had been happening slowly, so slowly I didn’t notice until… until it was bad. Within ten minutes of each other, I had two separate thoughts of killing myself. And not quick ways. Painful, lasting ways. That would take forever for me to actually die. And I realised I really,  _ really _ wanted them to happen. I was on a bridge, looking at the water, contemplating throwing myself into it, when… when Quicksilver showed up.”

 

The expression on Kurt’s face darkened. “But he literally was there to talk,” he defended quickly. “He… he knew what I was going through, and he seemed sincere. Not the false sense of sincerity that you can often tell with people. He knew what I was going through, being in a wheelchair. Being unable to take care of yourself or being able to use your power. He pointed out to me that literally anyone else could still use their powers in a wheelchair. You could still teleport, Jean could still use her psychic powers. Scott? Yeah. Kitty could. Piotr even could. I realised, in that moment, that I was useless. It made me sick to my stomach more than ever to know that I was literally useless. I couldn’t do anything! And… he told me he had a proposition for me. And I know he’s bad. I told him no at first. But then he ran with me. It was amazing. I don’t know how to describe it, but it was so freeing. It had been months since I felt speed like that.”

 

“And I miss it. And he told me there was a way for me to walk again. A way to run again, and Kurt, believe me when I say I initially said no. I told him there was a catch, because with people like them, there’s always a catch. But I told him I’d think it over, but before I did anything for him, and before they fixed me, they had to help Piotr, too. I was scared. I was losing myself and I didn’t want to lose him. And god I’m so fucking selfish. He could’ve died and it would have been my fault.” He dropped his head into his hands and sniffed. “I could have killed Piotr and I didn’t even stop to think about what my actions could cause.”

 

“But he is okay, no? You cannot punish yourself for everything, Jean-Paul.”

 

Jean-Paul sighed. “I know, I know. But Jean seems to think otherwise. He’s okay, I keep telling myself that. He’s alive and okay and he can be free to be himself again. He can walk down the street again without people watching him. Now, if we walk down the streets, the only thing people will be looking at is me…” Kurt hummed in understanding, his hand resting on Jean-Paul’s knee. “But how do I even tell Piotr that I knew last night would happen. I mean, I didn’t know how it would happen or when, but I knew I was perfectly safe last night and that no harm would come my way. He was probably so worried, and, after what happened the last time someone kidnapped me, I would be, too. God, I’m a horrible person. A horrible, horrible person.”

 

“I don’t think you were a horrible person, only a desperate one,” Kurt said, squeezing Jean-Paul’s knee gently. “I cannot say that I vwould have done the same, but I do not judge you for vwhat you have done. We cannot fix past mistakes, only learn from them.”

 

“Kurt,” Jean-Paul sobbed, “How was it that we didn’t think we could be friends?” He cried, harder than he had whenever he thought Piotr was dying, harder than he had when Jean was yelling at him. He needed this cry, an honest, open cry. When he had calmed down, the quiet only interrupted by hiccups, he looked up to Kurt. “Do you think Piotr will be mad at me when I tell him?”

 

Kurt sighed, sitting back on the couch. “I do not know if I am being honest. He might be, but again, he is always playing the bigger man. So maybe he vwill forgive you? I do not think he could stay mad at you for very long. He loves you.”

 

Jean-Paul looked out the window, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “I don’t know when they’ll come to me. When they’re going to try to heal me. And if they’ll want to take me then, or if I will have time between it all.”

 

“Who? Take you?”

 

“The Brotherhood. The condition to being healed was that whenever they came for me, I would leave to go join the Brotherhood. I wasn’t thinking right; I was so desperate. It killed me to finally tell them I agreed with the conditions. But… I was so scared.”

 

Kurt sighed. “That part might cause some problems vwith Piotr. Vwhen they come for you, regardless of vwhen, you can know that I will fight to keep you vwith us. You are a part of us, Jean-Paul. Regardless of how Jean feels about you. In fact, I’m mad at her right now, for attacking you like that. It was uncalled for. If she had just sat and listened to you like this, things would have been okay.” He shook his head. “In all honesty, though, I think you should go talk to Piotr before she tells him in a fit of emotion.”

 

Jean-Paul nodded in agreement. “Thank you Kurt. You’re a really good person.”

 

Kurt smiled, “It was no problem, Jean-Paul.”

 

Northstar wheeled himself out of the room and down to the infirmary. He pushed the door open slowly and wheeled in. “Piotr, I need to talk to you.”

 

Piotr was sitting up, a stern look on his face. “There’s no need. Jean told me everything. No, she  _ showed _ me everything. I’m… I’m disappointed, Jean-Paul.”

 

“I--”

 

“Not just with you, but also with Jean. I think she should have let you tell me first.” He frowned, his eyes showing nothing but hurt and betrayal. “So, I want you to explain to me what I was just shown. Why did you meet up with Quicksilver? Why did you agree to join the Brotherhood? Why did you do this, just to get your legs back?”

 

Jean-Paul felt sick, angry, and betrayed. “So that’s how Jean played it off? She made it like I didn’t agonise over it? Did she tell you I had thought about killing myself, or did she just tell you that I made a deal with Quicksilver?” He let out a harsh laugh; his face contorted in pain and anger. “I’m not defending what I did, it was a horrible decision on my part. But you know what, Kurt was right. What’s happened has happened and I can’t undo it. And honestly, I  _ wouldn’t _ because I know you turn out okay. I… I  _ missed _ you. I was…” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Piotr. “I was afraid that I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”

 

Piotr’s eyes widened and his face went pale and the heart monitor missed a beep, letting Jean-Paul know that he had really hurt Piotr with that sentence. “Do you still feel that way? Am I chasing after phantom feelings, Jean-Paul? Should we just end everything?”

 

Jean-Paul opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. He closed his mouth and sat there in silence. “Can I explain myself? Or are you just going to take Jean’s botched versions of my memories as fact and leave it at that?” He was angry and it could be heard in his voice. He didn’t mean to direct it at Piotr, but he was just so angry at everything. At himself, at Quicksilver, at Jean, his sister, the Acolytes, the Banshee. He sighed. “Sorry. Just.. can I explain myself?”

 

Piotr bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes. “I would rather see the memories for myself, with you there.”

 

“Well, we’re leaving Jean out of this, so unless you have an idea of what to do, you’re going to have to take my word.”

 

There was a thick, tense silence between the two of them. “Fine,” Piotr said, raspy and forced. “If you won’t let me see what Jean saw… then I guess this is the end for us. I’m sorry Jean-Paul, but I don’t think we can be together anymore. Not if you’ve fallen out of love with me and not if you can’t explain to me why you almost got me killed.”

 

Jean-Paul felt like someone had just reached into his chest and was twisting his heart. His lungs were burning and the blood in his ears was all he could hear. He felt the heat of tears in his eyes but never felt them on his cheeks and-- had it not been for the sudden wetness dripping onto his hands in his lap-- would never have known he was crying. His world was tilting on its axis and he felt like he was going to fall. There was so much pressure on him, he felt like his body was going to be crushed under the weight of it all. He looked up from the floor to see Piotr’s own eyes were filled with tears and his cheeks were red and splotchy. His mouth was set as if he was going to speak and Jean-Paul was hoping he’d take back those words, but he said nothing.

 

“Alright,” Jean-Paul whispered, wheeling himself out of the infirmary and back into the living room, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. Kurt was sitting on the couch still, laughing at something on the television, but Jean-Paul could hardly hear him over the screaming in his head. The screaming grew so loud and he didn’t even realise he was physically screaming until Kurt was shaking him and in front of him.

 

Jean-Paul couldn’t stop. He screamed until there was nothing left inside of him. There were no words, just screams. He screamed until he was empty. Empty of feelings, of words, of emotions, of life. He didn’t know how he ended up in the couch in Kurt’s arms, those abnormal hands smoothing down his hair. He didn’t know how it happened, but he knew it was what he needed. He was crying still, but he couldn’t scream, his throat was raw and scratchy.

 

He fell asleep listening to Kurt mutter in German, hoping that when he woke up, everything would be better.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean-Paul didn’t know why he was still hanging out in the mansion. He didn’t want to go back to the apartment because the bed would be too empty without Piotr in it and he didn’t want sit in the silence. Kurt had been spending a good amount of time with him, but when Kurt wasn’t around, Jean-Paul found his thoughts wandering toward darker areas.

 

Was it his fault things were over? Should he had just let Jean back into his head, but that time with Piotr? He didn’t trust her to go into his head; what if she had manipulated his memories for her own desire. He knew Jean wasn’t evil, but she was stubborn and what if she accidentally twisted the memories to fit her point of view?

 

Jean-Paul was staring out the window at the grass in the front of the mansion. A few of the students at the school were running around, laughing and using their powers to goof off. He felt a familiar pang of sadness, but at this point, he was almost numb to the sensation. It had been almost a whole week since Piotr had broken up with him, and he had only seen him once. When he left the room to go use the bathroom, Piotr had been cutting down that corridor for a class. The few seconds it took for Piotr to walk past Jean-Paul had been some of the most suffocating few seconds in his life. After Piotr had disappeared, Jean-Paul found he couldn’t breathe and that the air felt much warmer than it had before, an almost sickly heat crossed him.

 

Kurt teleported into the room, disrupting Jean-Paul from his brooding thoughts, and sat down on the couch. “ _Herkommen_ , come here, Jean-Paul. Away from the window and your nasty thoughts.” Jean-Paul wheeled himself over and leaned his head against the back of the couch,

 

“I’m not really in the mood for a movie, Kurt, sorry.”

 

“Of course you are not in the mood,” he said, no contempt in his tone, only understanding. “You are suffering right now. I understand, _mein freund_ . However, I have been talking to Piotr and he said if you vere villing, he would sit and have a _civil conversation_ ,” the stress on the words struck Jean-Paul, “with you. But only if I was there as vell.”

 

Jean-Paul’s heart thudded in his chest and he snapped his head up. “He’ll talk to me?”

 

Kurt nodded. “Personally, I think the two of you should… oh, vhat’s the saying? It would vork perfectly right here. _Verdammt_ , Scott would know.” He touched his finger to his lip and thought for a moment. “Ah! ‘Kiss and make up,’ _ja?_ I think the two of you should kiss and make up.” He gave Jean-Paul a little wink and a small laugh. “Seriously, though. The two of you are so sad and down and it is horrible to see. You need to talk and vork things out or you’re both just going to fall deeper and deeper into this horrible sadness.”

 

Jean-Paul sighed, letting his eyes shut against a suddenly growing headache. The idea of talking to Piotr made his stomach twist and his lungs burn. “Piotr said he’d do that?” He let out a shaky breath. “But what if I don’t want to talk?”

 

Kurt sighed. “Like I said, he said only if you vere villing to talk to him as vell. I’d be… ah… vat’s zee word? Moderator? _Ja_. I’d be a moderator so nothzing got out of hand between zee two of you.” Jean-Paul wringed his hands together and contemplated whether or not he should do it.

 

He missed Piotr. It had been so hard to sleep the past few nights without the other there. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable but it was no bed. He couldn’t just get up and run away from these problems. He couldn’t get up and run at all. He didn’t want Jean back in his head, because what if she could manipulate his memories? What if her anger at what he did ruins it all? What is she shows Piotr what she wants to see and not what actually happened. “I don’t know how to explain my apprehension toward Jean being in my head. I don’t want her there. I don’t…” He choked, clenching his fists and trying to find the words. “I… I’m scared she’s going to twist my memories around. She told Piotr that I met up with Quicksilver, not that he approached me. She lied to Piotr, because she’s mad at me. I don’t know why she’d do something like that.” He hugged himself, dropping his head to his chest.

 

Kurt was silent, the only indication he was still there was a slight thumping sound as his tail hit the couch. “Zere is no reason for her to sabotage you like zat, so I do not know why she did. It does not make any sense to me.” Kurt reached out and squeezed Jean-Paul’s knee. “I promise zat I will help you, Jean-Paul. But please, I cannot do anyzing if you do not at least talk to Piotr.”

  
  
  


Jean-Paul was sitting in Piotr’s room, messing with the rubber on the arm of his wheelchair. He had agreed to talk to Piotr, but now, sitting in the room, he felt suffocated. He had no idea how to even start. Piotr was sitting on his bed, arms crossed over his broad… muscular chest. Jean-Paul mentally shook his head, fighting away his distracting thoughts. He didn’t have time to think about how those muscles twitched when Jean-Paul ran his fingers over them, or how he felt so small when pinned underneath Piotr. He bit his lip, arguing with himself again, to stop thinking like that. If he didn’t talk to Piotr about what had happened, those memories would remain that. Nothing but memories.

 

Kurt was sitting on Piotr’s desk chair, more squatting. His glowing eyes nervously flickered back and forth between the two of them. He frowned. “All right,” he said, standing up and startling Jean-Paul. “Zat’s it. You two are going to talk even if it means we are here all night. I do not like zis silence of who’s going to talk first and who’s going to listen. So I’m deciding.” He looked between Piotr and Jean-Paul again, thought written on his face. “Jean-Paul, you told me some very important zings zat I think you should tell Piotr.” His face softened as did his tone. “Just be _honest_ with each other, _sie idioten_.” He put his hand on Jean-Paul’s shoulder. “Just talk to him.”

 

Jean-Paul swallowed hard, but he knew Kurt was right. There was no other way to go around this. He sighed and looked down at his hands. “I… I don’t know how to start this so I’m just going to start on the day it happened.” He glanced up at Piotr and was greeted with nothing but a steel face. Not a literal steel face. Piotr was just void of emotion and it made Jean-Paul’s heart pound. He looked back to his lap. “When I was waiting on the elevator, I… I looked down the stairs. My heart was pounding and the next thing I knew I was falling down them. My bones were breaking and my nose was bleeding and I couldn’t call out for help because I was in so much pain. I just fell down the stairs until I was a crumpled heap and the only sound besides my gurgles was the wheel of my chair just… spinning. I felt my vision going dark and then the next thing I knew I was back at the top of the stairs about to do it all over again.”

 

Jean-Paul clenched his jaw, fighting the tears in his eyes. “And that wasn’t the first time I had a thought like that. Once, I was out on the balcony, watching the people below. And then suddenly, I was pulling myself over the railing and falling down to the ground below. Another time, I was filling up the bathtub when I just decided to stay under until I fell unconscious. The time before that, I was cutting up food for dinner when I saw myself cutting myself. I never _did_ any of this. But the thoughts were so persistent, so often.” He looked up at Piotr and saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “And I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t understand what was happening. I was scared that I’d scare you away. God it was fucking stupid of me but I’m fucking stupid.”

 

“And then I was drowning in the river. I was so ready to finally go through with that thought, so ready to just end it all because I was drifting further away from myself and further away from you and Piotr I think if Quicksilver hadn’t shown up when he did, I would be dead right now.” He swallowed hard, not looking away from the other. He felt Kurt’s hand on his shoulder squeeze. “I’m not saying what I did was right, but Piotr. I would do it again. Because sometimes doing what’s right is the hardest thing to do. It would have been right for me to deny his offer, to tell him no. It would have been right for me to tell you what was happening, to get your input. But I was so fucking lost. I was hating myself more and more by each passing minute. I was losing grip on reality, on what I was really doing and what I wasn’t.”

 

“Quicksilver came to me, and he offered me my legs back. But I didn’t just want my legs back. I wanted _you_ back. I wanted the nights to be warm and the hugs to be soft. I wanted to kisses to be real. I wanted _you_ .” He was crying, voice cracking and making it hard to keep talking. “And it was selfish of me, to make that decision on your part, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry and I know I can never make it up to you, but I just wanted _us_ to be okay again. It wasn’t that I didn’t or don’t love you. It’s that I was losing myself and I felt like I was losing you, too. I love you so much and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t let you see these memories for yourself but I’m so angry at Jean. She hurt me, Piotr. She attacked me instead of letting me explain myself and it wasn’t right of me to deny you an explanation but I’m _trying_.”

 

“I want to show you my memories, don’t think I don’t. But I don’t want Jean back in my head. Because the memories she showed you were so botched and biased and she left out everything I actually felt and only showed you what she wanted to see.” His cheeks were warm and he could feel redness creeping down his neck. He knew how he would look from an outside perspective. Splotches of red all down his face and disappearing underneath his collar. If his shirt was removed, the colour would spread to his shoulders, growing more and more vibrant. “And I’m scared that she’ll warp them or something and show you the same thing again. I--”

 

Piotr interrupted him, “Jean isn’t that powerful or that cruel.”

 

“Don’t tell me what Jean is and isn’t,” Jean-Paul spat, feeling anger strike through him, making his cheeks redden further. “She brought me back from the dead, Piotr.”

 

“Exactly! So why in God’s name would she warp your memories? Why would she try to drive us apart? What would her reasoning be, Northstar? Tell me.” Piotr stood up from the bed, spreading his arms open.

 

“I don’t know!” Jean-Paul yelled back, hitting his already bruised hand off of his arm rest. “Goddammit, Piotr! I don’t know,” his voice broke and he felt tears push past his lashes and race down his cheeks. “But I didn’t meet up with Quicksilver. I was on the bridge, thinking about how easy it would just be to go through with the thoughts in my head. I was just there and he happened to show up. Don’t ask me how he knew I’d be there or why he was there, because I _don’t know_. But he was. He came up to me, he talked to me. That’s it. He didn’t hurt me, he didn’t manipulate me, God, maybe he did. I don’t know! He talked to me, Piotr. And for the first time since I died, I found someone who understood me.” He looked up at Piotr, gritting his teeth and pushing past the urge to scream and beg Piotr to forgive him.

 

“I can’t tell you exactly what he said, because I don’t have perfect memory. But everything he said hit home. Maybe he was being honest, maybe he was being manipulative. I don’t know. But it resonated with me. I’m crippled. Anyone, _anyone_ in this mansion can still use their powers while in a wheelchair, Piotr. Name one person who can’t.” Silence followed Jean-Paul’s words as Piotr chewed on his bottom lip, brows drawn together in concentration. “You can’t,” Jean-Paul said quietly after a moment. “Because there’s no one who can’t. Everyone can. I feel so useless sometimes Piotr. I’m hardly a mutant anymore. I’m hardly _me_ anymore. And Quicksilver related that to me. He was in a wheelchair, too, Piotr. Or have we all forgotten that his own father popped a cap into his knee?” Perhaps Jean-Paul was defending Quicksilver a little too much, but for the first time in months, he had felt understood. “He understood what I was going through, not just on the level of being unable to use my powers, but in the sense that… I guess anyone who’s ever been stuck in a wheelchair would understand it. People look at you differently. I guess it’s not something you notice until it’s happening. There’s _pity_ in their eyes, their words. The way they hold open doors like they’re doing you some great service. People look at you like you’re sick. There’s disgust and fear. Fear that it’s going to happen to them next.” He laid his head back and looked out Piotr’s window. Kurt’s hand was still tight on his shoulder, a firm, reassuring presence.

 

“Even the strongest of souls begin to feel useless, Piotr. I can’t see up on the counters. I can’t reach most foods. I have to ask for assistance in almost every single task. It becomes degrading. It’s tiring. When people exit the elevator and say that they can take the stairs. It’s no problem for them to let you get in. Do you need help getting in? Oh you poor thing. It’s a shame that more and more youth end up in wheelchairs. Was it an accident? Have you always been in a wheelchair? People either pry or avoid you. Everyone changes around you. Even the ones who are closest to you.” Outside was bright, the grass a lush green and the sky a refreshing blue. “Even you had changed, Piotr. Even if you hadn’t meant to. It was in your actions. In your tones. You spoke to me like I was fragile. Like words would break me. When I couldn’t get one thing out of the fridge, you spent the whole afternoon rearranging it so the most important stuff was within my grasp. You switched the silverware drawer to a lower one. You started putting dishes away in the lower cabinets. And I appreciated it, I really did. But you never once stopped to realise it was suffocating me. I felt like a burden. I felt useless. Maybe it was also because you were stuck in Colossus, but you were always so _careful_ . If I held your hand, you wouldn’t even close your fingers. There was no holding me against you. I was there by my own accord. You wouldn’t put your arm over my shoulders and opted for the back of the couch. I get it, Piotr. You didn’t want to hurt me. But it was so nerve-wracking and _suffocating_.”

 

Jean-Paul’s hands had begun to shake. “I was losing my mind. Quicksilver knew what it was like. To have everyone doing your every whim whether you wanted them to or not. To have people look at you like you’re a lost child or a kicked puppy,” he swallowed. “He offered me my legs back. And when I told him no, he… he ran with me.” His body was practically vibrating as he relived the memory. “Piotr, it was so _freeing_ . Months of mundane. Months of dull. Months of being stuck, stationary, trapped, _suffocated_ . And he ran with me.” He smiled, shaking violently. His chest was rising and falling fast. He still looked out the window. “I felt alive in that moment. I’ve felt so dead since Jean brought me back. Like I was just a husk of who I used to be. I can’t explain it. It was like I had _really_ been brought to life. Like, Jean brought my mind and body back, but in that moment, Quicksilver gave me my soul. But I knew, I _knew_ there would be a catch because with people like Quicksilver, there are always catches.”

 

He shut his eyes, trying to calm his mind. “And I told him, before I even considered his conditions, they’d have to fix you, as well.”

 

“Fix me? Jean-Paul, I was never broken.” Piotr’s voice was offended but Jean-Paul kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see the anger that was most likely on his face. Or the pity that was in everyone’s eyes.

 

“I don’t mean it like that. I meant--”

 

“No, I know what you meant. I wasn’t living up to your ideals of standard, right? I wasn’t normal enough for you. You weren’t falling out of love with me, you were falling out of attraction. We couldn’t hug normally or kiss or _fuck_ ,” he spat the last word out and Jean-Paul flinched. He felt Kurt’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “You weren’t physically attracted to me anymore. I’m no idiot. I was a hunk of metal and I was stupid enough to think that anyone would love that. I was stupid enough to think that _you_ would.”

 

Jean-Paul’s eyes snapped open and he sat forward, stomach lurching. “No you _imbécile_ ! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant,” he sighed, and turned to face Kurt. His heart thudded hard against his rib cage. “Look at Kurt,” he said, voice low and strained. “Really look at him. We’re used to seeing him, so he’s not abnormal. He’s Kurt. We accept his appearance as it is because we know who he is and it doesn’t matter what he looks like. To _us_ , he’s just as normal as everyone else. But if you put him in the middle of New York Times, people are going to stare. People are going to judge. People are going to be rude and vulgar and someone might even try to hurt him. Because he’s different and people never look past that. Because of his looks, which we deem normal but society deems wrong, he’s forced to stay inside and hide away.” Kurt stared at him, confused and head tilted. “Kurt grew up like that. Even in the Munich Circus, he wasn’t public. People assumed it was a costume. And when people found out it was really him, they got violent.”

 

Kurt’s eyebrows drew together but he quickly realised where Jean-Paul was heading. “ _Ja_. It’s hard being shut avay your whole life,” he added. “But it is how I have alvays lived. You, Piotr, not so much.”

 

Jean-Paul sighed in relief, thankful Kurt understood what he has been trying to say. “I didn’t want you to be holed up for the rest of your life, Piotr. You weren’t meant to be hidden.”

 

“As you said so yourself, ‘If somevone such as yourself can be out in zee open, why shouldn’t I be?’ Do you remember zat, Piotr?” Piotr nodded his head slowly, the anger slowly draining off his face.

 

“Even if I could never be fixed, I wanted you to be. Not because you were broken or because I didn’t love you, but _because_ I loved you. Piotr, I love you so much and I knew being holed up in that apartment wasn’t easy on you, either. You took every opportunity to go out on missions or to come to the mansion, because at least here you can walk around without anybody trying to hurt you. And I get it. You were made of metal. No one could physically hurt you without being a mutant themselves. But… if someone pulled out a gun? Your chrome can’t repel everything. You can’t fight off everybody. You can’t fight off the human race.”

 

Piotr sat down on the bed, frowning. “So… what you’re telling me is the truth? Jean came into the infirmary and gave me false information? But why? Why, Jean-Paul?”

 

Jean-Paul shrugged, looking down at the floor. “I think she’s mad at me for something. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it isn’t so much her as it is the Phoenix Force. I don’t know. But I’m telling you the truth. He gave me a proposition and in a moment of selfish desperation, I accepted. I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay. And you don’t have to forgive me, because I wouldn’t forgive me if I were you. But I just wanted you to know the truth. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hid it from you, but I didn’t know what to do. It was wrong of me.”

 

“You’re right, Jean-Paul. I shouldn’t forgive you and anyone in their right mind would refuse to accept your apology. But maybe I’m not in my right mind. Because I forgive you. I’m mad at you, yes. I’m hurt, yes. And maybe there’s a little bit less trust than there used to be, but I forgive you. And now I’m going to ask Kurt to leave the room because I think I really, really want to kiss those lips until you stop crying.”

 

Jean-Paul let out a shaky laugh and smiled at Kurt as the other smiled back and threw his head back in laughter. “I don’t need to be asked twice. _Auf wiedersehen_ _, liebe vögel_.” He disappeared in a puff of sulfur and brimstone, his laughter cutting off once he was gone. Jean-Paul had been so occupied with watching Kurt leave, he wasn’t ready for strong arms to lift him up off of his wheelchair.

 

He gasped when thrown (gently) onto the bed. Piotr loomed over him and kissed him. A hum left Jean-Paul, his hands gripping Piotr’s shoulders, digging into the fabric of his shirt. Warmth radiated off of Piotr and Jean-Paul felt himself shiver. The kisses were slow and full. Jean-Paul was crying again as they kissed but Piotr stayed true to his promise. He was kissed until his tears stopped and his shaking subsided. The sun went down yet they still kissed, making up for the months were their kisses were cold and for appearance only.

 

It was late into the night before they finally fell asleep. Jean-Paul was warm and his lips were bruised and he was happier than he had been in months. Even if there was a sneaking suspicion that something bad was bound to happen, he couldn’t be bothered by it. He had Piotr and that was enough to chase away his fears for at least tonight.


End file.
